Chapter Two
My back is pressed up against the wall and my knees are drawn up to my chest. The nurse who last came in told me I should get back on the bed. I hate hospital rooms. I don’t want to get on the bed, now they’ve examined my injuries. I’ve suffered some serious cuts and bruises, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.
All I want to do is curl up into a ball and disappear. Or run away. The police officer standing guard at the door will not let that happen.
My brain is running on repeat. Over and over. Not him hitting me, no. As fucked up as that is, being beaten is an old friend. I keep seeing him pinning Jenna against the fridge, his hand around her throat. I was powerless to help my friend.
All I could think was, he’s going to kill her.
But Jenna isn’t dead. Michael is.
By my hand.
My eyes squeeze tight as I try to force the images from my head. A low keening sound comes from deep in my chest. Not even the many injuries I suffered tonight can take away this feeling inside of me .
After years of suffering Michael, I got away from him and started a new life. Six blissful months, free of the torment and fear. Then he found me.
I had to do something, had to tell someone, but whenever I tried, I got scared. Instead, I foolishly spent my days and nights hoping and praying he’d one day be in prison for the awful things he did. Now, he’s the one who got off Scott free.
I’m the one going to prison.
I drop my forehead and press it against my knees. It sends a stab of pain through my skull. I’ve had concussions before, I know that is what the pain is. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore.
Although my throat is clogged and my nose burning, I haven’t cried. Not once. I’ve learned over the years that tears get me nowhere. I glance at my hand, finding it odd there is no blood, no cuts or bruises.
This is the hand I used to shoot the gun that killed my ex-boyfriend.
I killed him. I shouldn’t feel happy about it, I shouldn’t feel peace. All I should be feeling is terror for what this has done to my life, but deep down, beneath the fear and uncertainty, I’m glad he’s dead.
A commotion at the door has me lifting my head. A woman’s voice arguing with whoever is outside. I draw my knees up closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around them even tighter.
“I’m her lawyer and you cannot stop me going in there. So either get out of the way or I’ll call your superior and have you on desk duty so damn fast.”
The ajar door opens further and Brooke Hannon marches through. She shuts the door behind her despite the protests of the cop outside. Her eyes sweep the room, her brow creased, until she spots me sitting on the floor.
“Meg,” she breathes out and walks around the bed .
She tosses her bag onto a chair and, despite wearing what looks like a very expensive skirt and designer shoes, gets down on the floor beside me.
“It’s over,” she whispers and settles in next to me, not putting her arm around me, but her shoulder is pressed to mine. I appreciate that. I’m not sure I can accept hugs right now.
I never told her or Jenna what was going on at home. They suspected, they’re not stupid. Jenna tried a few times to get me to open up.
I’m scared by what she did tonight, but I’m glad she came to my apartment. I’m glad she cared enough to make sure I was alright. If she hadn’t, I’m pretty sure it would be me in the body bag.
Maybe not tonight, but eventually, he would have killed me.
“You just hired me.”
“I can’t afford-”
“Ssh. Don’t worry about that. I’ve already spoken to the arresting officer and your doctor and I’ve advised you need to stay here for observation tonight, not in a cell.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t thank me for being your friend, Meg. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you do not spend a single night in a jail cell, do you hear me? I’ve pulled some strings to get you before a judge in the morning. I’m going to throw everything at them.” Brooke takes my hand and squeezes it. “I know this is going to be tough, but you are strong, you are safe, and what you did tonight was justified. He could have killed you and Jenna. You saved both of your lives and you’re a bad ass for that, do you hear me?”
Her tone of voice could frighten a person in my position. It’s happened before. Someone shouting too loud has my shoulders coming up around my ears, like I’m expecting a blow. But not with Brooke. She’s my friend. Brooke has never judged me, forced me to talk or expected anything from me, accepting me for who I am.
“Is Jenna okay? ”
“She’s fine, she’s been discharged already. Sandy came to pick her up. If they’d let her through, she’d have been in here with you hours ago. She was about to fight the cop outside until I got here and told her to go home.”
She catalogues Jenna’s injuries. Brooke doesn’t sugar coat anything, but she assures me every step of the way that Jenna is tough, a fighter and glad she was there for me tonight. Even though she got hurt.
“My ass is going numb on this floor, come on,” she gets up and reaches a hand down to me.
I’m still not sure I want to leave the security of this corner, but her fingers wiggle, so I take it, letting her lift me up. She drags the two chairs in the room facing together and we sit so our knees are touching.
“This will not be easy, Meg, but I need you to tell me everything. Can you do that?”
My whole body wants to shut down. I don’t know that I can face this, that I can fight for my freedom, but Brooke won’t let me give up.
Jenna didn’t give up tonight. So I won’t either. I can fight back. Tonight proved it.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“See,” Brooke squeezes my hand. “Bad ass.”
I will not pretend I understand all the intricacies of a court room. Brooke said that is what she is here for. I have to trust her.
Jenna brought clothes to the hospital. The slacks, white shirt and blazer are hers. My apartment is a crime scene. Luckily, we’re a similar build.
We hugged for the longest time, and she whispered words of encouragement to me .
Brooke already told me Adam, Jenna’s boyfriend, is flying back from London today. He is on a European tour with his band. No one would tell me, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure Adam will be beside himself. I only hope he doesn’t end up hating me for what Michael did to Jenna.
I stand in the courtroom, barely hearing anything going on around me, staring at my hands.
Hands that killed someone yesterday.
Part of me thinks I deserve this. I took a life. Shouldn’t I be punished for it? But the other part, the one that Jenna and Brooke are standing on, telling me I did the right thing, wants to walk out of here a free woman. I bore a lot at Michael’s hands, more than any woman should ever have to take.
But, I took his life. The disparity between those two things is threatening to break me.
“Your Honor, we would like to request that Miss Cooper be released on her own recognizance.”
My ears perk up at that. This is the part Brooke mentioned would happen, but told me not to worry. She won’t see me spend a night in a cell and she means it. I hear fragments of what they’re saying, the other side arguing, until the judge states that bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars.
That number pounds through my brain. I don’t have that much money and no apartment to put up as collateral, I have family, but they’re older and I could never ask them to pay for this. I don’t even want them to know. I could never accept money from Brooke or Jenna, who is standing behind me in the courtroom.
The color drains from my face, and I have to plant one palm on the desk to stop myself from falling.
Then I hear something that stuns me. Bail has been set, but it’s also been paid and will be settled so I can leave. My mouth drops open, and I turn to stare at Brooke, confused as hell.
“What? How? ”
Brooke holds my forearm and squeezes it, then turns her head. I expect to see Jenna when my gaze follows hers. But that isn’t who I see.
Standing at the back of the courtroom, dressed in a smart shirt and dark jeans, is the last person I ever expected to see here.
Joey ‘The Slayer’ Ferguson.